Days of Transition:  Part One

During my doctoral studies, I lived closely for many months with the scriptural narrative of Hagar, best known in biblical history as “the other woman” in the story of Abraham and Sarah.  She became such a familiar companion to me that I ended up writing a book with that title, connecting her story to that of contemporary men and women. (Just in case you’re interested, it’s on the shelves of the Ashland Library or for sale at the Kroc Center).

Found in Genesis 16 and 21, the brief account of Hagar’s life wrapped around Sarah’s life story, both partners of the same man.  Sarah was infertile, unable to have a baby, so Hagar was drafted to fill that need, a surrogate mother of sorts for Sarah.  But then the miracle took place.  Sarah became pregnant herself at the age of 90.  Yikes!

            Fast forward from biblical history to my life story of 2012.  Our precious granddaughter, the lovely Madelyn Simone, just spent two days with us at our home, and I have one thing to say: Sarah, you must have been crazy to have a baby at 90.  That’s not the natural order of things.  There’s a reason the biological clock comes to a halt before age 57. 

After chasing around a two year old for 48 hours, I am utterly exhausted.  She runs faster than I can get up.  Madelyn can open doors, write on her leg with a red marker, go down the slide at the playground, and whirl through a room like a tornado.  She likes to take a group of items and spread them out – rubber bands, practice golf balls, paper clips, business cards and chalk were the items of choice this visit.  I’m worn out all over again just typing these words. 

Don’t get me wrong.  She’s a wonderful child.  She will sit quietly to watch her beloved Nemo and Rio, and was quite creative playing with a few golf balls in the green room at the Kroc Center, with its gently sloped handicapped ramp.  Even the squalls of the terrible two tantrums pass over quickly, and she seems to sense when the adults around her need an extra dose of love.

So it was a good thing that she was with us these particular days, because the adults around her desperately needed her extra dose of love.  Larry and I received word that the Salvation Army was making a change in leadership at the Ashland Ray and Joan Kroc Corps Community Center.  We were to move on to another assignment, and a new couple was coming to Ashland.  After we picked our jaws up off the floor, we realized that we would have to tell our staff and church family of that decision – we didn’t want them to read the news on Facebook.

So as we sat together in the Sacred Space at the center, celebrating birthdays and graduations, we took the first step to break the news to those we’ve come to love so dearly.  It was time for us to pass the mantle of leadership to another couple.  There were shocked expressions, tears, and many questions from those facing their first experience with Salvation Army transitions.  “It’s the way it works,” we told them, drawing on our 34 years of facing the “June moves.”  “This year Ashland is on that list.”   

The absolute gift of those 48 hours was that Madelyn was with us.  Without knowing why, she comforted us, she cheered us up, and she reminded us of the place of love. As we sat and sang Skidamarink-a-dinky-dink for the tenth time, she looked up at me and in her inimitable way proclaimed “I love you!”  The preacher in me doesn’t have to look hard to make the connection to how the Spirit of God abides with us.

I’m at my word limit for today, so I don’t have time to tell you about Captains Brett and Jessica DeMichael and their children as they pack to make their journey to Ashland, about our plan to semi-retire a bit early to remain here, or the fear and trepidation of job-hunting well into our dotage (LOL on the dotage part).  Stay tuned.